


Aureate

by chemicaljedi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22062520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemicaljedi/pseuds/chemicaljedi
Summary: Darth Auratus killed Anakin Skywalker's master ten years ago. When Anakin gets a lead on where this Sith is, he takes off immediately. But what happens when he falls into a trap and gets taken as Auratus' prisoner? And why does Auratus look so familiar?
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 14
Kudos: 96





	1. Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost of the original Aureate that I orphaned in a fit of mania several years ago After having a dream of this series last night, I’ve decided to take another shot at it.

Blood splattered over the man’s robes, sizzling as it clung to him, marked him as a murderer. He didn’t even look at the corpse as he jerked his lightsaber out of the man’s chest; instead, he leered at the Jedi watching him in horror and flicked his golden hair out of his handsome face. He laughed freely, a scratchy laugh that went straight to the guts of the young Jedi. They had never seen something so terrible.

“ _Obi-Wan?_ ” The young girl whispered, her hand flying up to her mouth.

The Sith offered a crooked grin. “Not quite.”

* * *

“I don’t believe you.”

Anakin had his arms crossed, and he stared petulantly at his master, who almost looked like he had had just about enough of Anakin’s defiance.

Qui-Gon was generally a very calm, very soothing person. It took a lot to rile up Anakin’s master, and this was one of the things Anakin respected in him. However, at that moment, he was not feeling very respectful. He felt like his master was lying to him.

Qui-Gon sighed, the sound a very weary thing. “Anakin,” he said, in that reprimanding tone that haunted Anakin’s dreams. “It will be a quick mission; it cannot take more than a day. I will be back before you even realize I have gone.”

“No.”

“ _Anakin_.”

“No!” The young Padawan didn’t seem to be relenting any time soon. At thirteen, the boy stood at an awkward height, not yet tall but not exactly short. His hair was a dark, rye-blond that was darkening to a dull ash with time. When Anakin had met Qui-Gon, his hair had been a bright gold. The two had been together for four years, and while there had always been a film of alienation between them, Anakin still felt a significant fondness for his master. He was coming to that age when he was finding flaws with the hypocritical, stifling Jedi Code, and of course he didn’t tell Qui-Gon of this, but he suspected that Qui-Gon knew. And Anakin felt that he owed him, because as far as Anakin could tell, Qui-Gon hadn’t told a soul.

“Anakin, I must go, whether you like it or not,” Qui-Gon said, and Anakin turned his head away from him. “Now, that is extremely childish.”

“I am a child.”

“You are a Jedi.”

“Well, someone should tell that to Master Yoda,” snapped Anakin. “Maybe then he would let me go with you.”

“Anakin.” Qui-Gon knelt down to Anakin’s level, which made Anakin self-conscious about his height. He wasn’t short; Qui-Gon was just tall. He had to constantly remind himself of this. “Anakin, look at me.” Reluctantly, Anakin did so. As he met his master’s eyes, he tried to fight the feeling of foolishness. No matter what the Jedi said, Anakin believed that he had a right to feel things. And he felt concerned. “Anakin, I understand that this will be the first significant mission I will be going on without you since I took you on as my Padawan. I understand that you may be concerned.” With a quick scan of their surroundings to confirm that the two were alone, Qui-Gon gently placed his hand on Anakin’s shoulder. Gestures of affection were few and far between where Anakin lived, and the touch made Anakin close his eyes. He thought of his mother.

“I just don’t want you to die,” Anakin whispered, and even though he tried to fight it, he felt tears start to sting in his eyes. Anakin squeezed his eyes shut tighter, hoping to keep them from slipping out. It had been a year ago when Anakin and Qui-Gon had gone on the search for Shmi Skywalker, and it had been a year ago when Anakin learned of her death at the hands of Tusken Raiders. If his master had not been there to comfort him and tell him his grief wasn’t some shameful, unJedi-like thing, Anakin didn’t know what would have happened to him. What if Qui-Gon died? Anakin felt something in his chest quiver. “I…”

“Anakin,” Qui-Gon said softly, and Anakin’s eyes flew open in surprise as the Jedi pulled his Padawan into a hug. Tears fell out of Anakin’s eyes, but the boy didn’t notice as his master embraced him in a warm, comforting hug. “I will return, Anakin,” his master said. “I promise you. It is hardly a concern, this mission.”

“Maybe if you told me what the mission was,” Anakin said, his voice muffled against the cloth of Qui-Gon’s robe, “I wouldn’t be worried.”

“Ah.” Qui-Gon withdrew, ruffled Anakin’s hair, and stood up. “See, I have the most peculiar thought that telling you would just fuel your fire.”

Anakin scowled. “You’re leaving whether I want you to or not.” It wasn’t a question, and Qui-Gon did not provide an answer. An answer wasn’t necessary. Still, Anakin would wish countless times in the years following that his master had offered any sort of response to him. He would wish over and over again that Qui-Gon had said something, anything, before he ruffled Anakin’s hair once more and left his Padawan’s room. Because that was the last time Anakin Skywalker ever saw Qui-Gon Jinn, and the last time Anakin Skywalker put his trust in a Jedi.

* * *

Anakin didn’t really care if Master Yoda and Windu thought he was a reckless little renegade. The bastard had shown up again, and Anakin was going to kill him. “Listen, it doesn’t matter what they think,” he said to Padme as she watched him load the Interceptor that had once belonged to his master. Since Qui-Gon’s death, Anakin had taken ownership of a lot of Qui-Gon’s things. “I have to do this. For him.”

“Are you sure it’s for him?” Padme asked quietly, and Anakin’s eyes jerked to hers, his chest seizing up with a bitter, cold feeling. Padme saw his expression, and she melted into the portrait of compassion, reaching for his hand and then pressing their grasped hands to her chest. “Ani, you don’t have to do this. I know you’re angry. And I know that you aren’t allowed to be, and I know that you miss him, but it’s been years, and maybe you need to—”

“Don’t you dare tell me to let it go,” warned Anakin.

“I’m _not_ , it’s just that it’s been ten years, Ani; ten years of bottling up anger and ignoring it and—”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” demanded Anakin, pulling roughly away from the girl he had known and loved since they were both small. It was painful to look at her, had been painful to look at her ever since he had confessed his love for her and she had uncomfortably turned him down. Padme stared from him to the hand he had just pulled away from and to him again, like she couldn’t comprehend his anger. Maybe she couldn’t. “Do you know what the Council thinks of emotions, Padme? That they're dangerous, and we shouldn’t have them; we shouldn’t grieve, shouldn’t be angry, shouldn’t want justice. But I want justice!”

“Anakin!” Padme cried, and she latched onto his arm to stop him as he rounded towards the Interceptor to get in. The wind on the launch pad was blowing her hair in a halo around her face. It hurt Anakin, how beautiful she looked.

“Let go of me,” he said, his voice low.

“Anakin, there is a difference between justice and revenge,” Padme said. Anakin clenched his jaw. “The Sith that killed Qui-Gon Jinn deserves to be brought to justice. I’m not saying he doesn’t. I’m just trying to say that maybe you’re not the best hand of justice, because you can’t possibly be unbiased. The way you’ll deliver the justice will make it revenge, Anakin, and I can’t let you do that to yourself.”

“No one is without bias,” Anakin snarled, and he yanked his arm out of her grasp. In one fluid motion, he was in the cockpit of the Interceptor. “The man is a murderer and a Sith. No Jedi can face him without bias, and no Jedi but me will ever get the chance to.”

With that, Anakin sealed the cockpit, glaring at Padme to make her get out of his way. Once she was safe, Anakin took off, alone in the air with nothing but the rage boiling in his gut. 

He wouldn’t let himself question what he was doing. On some level, he knew that the fiery anger in his body should alarm him, but after repressing the emotion for so long, he couldn’t even begin to contemplate stifling it one second more. The man who had killed his master was on Dantooine, and after all of these years, Anakin Skywalker was going to avenge Qui-Gon Jinn. Nothing that the Jedi Council or Padme could say would change his mind. He had simmered and seethed for a decade, had been forced not to feel his grief and anger ever since Master Yoda had called him to the Council to tell him that Darth Auratus had killed his master.

 _Auratus_. What he was doing on Dantooine, Anakin had no idea. Dantooine had always been marked down as a peaceful planet, home to mainly humans and the Dantari. Anakin had never been, but Qui-Gon had taught him that the planet was one of grassy plains, rivers, and beautiful lakes. Aside from the fact that it was on the Outer Rim, it didn’t seem the kind of place a Sith would hang out.

Anakin set his jaw. He would find out what Auratus was doing there, one way or another. That, he knew for sure.

Anakin was almost positive that the Sith was in Crystal Cave. The place held great significance to the Jedi Order, and Anakin thought that if he were a Sith trying to pervert a wholesome planet like Dantooine, he would start at the source. The symbol. The place that Jedi harvested the crystals needed for their lightsabers.

Anakin landed the Interceptor in the Khoonda Plains, just far enough away from the cave to not be seen but not too far that he couldn’t make it to the cave on foot in a few hours. Anakin leapt out of the cockpit, landing lightly on his feet, surrounded by grass towering above his head. He pushed his sweaty hair away from his face, rolling up the sleeves on his tunic. It was a hot day on Dantooine, and Anakin was instantly grateful that he had brought water in his pack. He wanted to take a sip right away, but he knew he’d be in for torture once he’d walked for a couple hours if he had no water left.

With a silent sigh, Anakin detached his lightsaber from his belt and started his way through the plants. Slicing the wheat down as he passed through, Anakin made his way across the Khoonda Plains quite slowly. If that was the only price he paid, though, for being cautious, he would pay it. Much better to be a slowpoke than be dead.

Anakin wasn’t sure how long he trudged across the plains, slashing down stalks upon stalks of grass. He knew that, after some two or three hours, the muscles in his back were on fire and he had overheated to the point where he had stripped himself of his tunic and was shirtless, his tunic stuffed hastily in his pack with the water bottle that taunted Anakin with every step he took. Just one sip, he told himself. Just one…

It took Anakin about one more hour to break. He shut off his lightsaber, throwing his pack to the ground, dropping to his knees, and rifling through it for the water desperately. Anakin was so caught up in finally getting a drink that he didn’t notice the man until he spoke.

“Lost?”

Anakin spat on himself. _Nice_ , he thought. _Very Jedi-like. Great._ He rose from his knees, his hand clasping to his lightsaber and ready to switch it to life at the smallest sign of trouble. The man watched him with considerable amusement. For some reason, Anakin blushed when he remembered that he had removed his tunic and was now shirtless. Maybe it was the way the man’s glass-blue eyes traced the drops the water Anakin had accidentally spewed as they dripped down his chest and towards his navel. Anakin cleared his throat.

“Can I help you?” He asked, his voice harsh. He wasn’t in the mood for civilian interference. Anakin tightened his grip on the lightsaber and slightly brandished it, trying to indicate to the man that he was armed and dangerous and not in the mood for chitchat.

The man raised one eyebrow at Anakin. “I was going to ask you that,” he said. He stood confidently, the grass swaying above his head in the soft breeze. The man’s hair was only a shade or two darker than wheat, a dark gold that glinted bronze in the sun. “What’s a young boy like you doing by himself in the Khoonda Plains?”

“It’s really none of your business,” interjected Anakin. He heard how rude he was being, and even though he personally didn’t care, he could just hear Qui-Gon scolding him. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m here for personal reasons.”

For some reason, the man smirked. At least, Anakin thought he did, but he couldn’t be sure, because the cocky smirk was gone as quick as it had appeared, and on the man’s handsome face now was a look of interest. “That doesn’t answer my question,” said the man.

“Well, you didn’t answer mine,” countered Anakin. “I asked you if I could help you. You didn’t respond.”

“Right,” the man said, a lion-like smile gracing his features. He leaned down and grabbed Anakin’s pack up from at his feet and slung it over his shoulder before Anakin could protest. “I am in need of great help, actually. I’m trying to find Crystal Cave. Do you think you could help me?”

Anakin was instantly suspicious. “What do you need at the Cave? Only Jedi have business there.” _Great, you might as well have told the man you’re a Jedi. Brilliant._

“I’m thinking of taking up spelunking,” said the man. Anakin stared. Was this guy for real? The Crystal Cave was essentially a holy place for all Jedi, and as such, he should tear the guy to shreds and warn him from ever intruding. But if he did, he would alert Auratus to his presence— there was no telling what this hick would do once Anakin sent him away, but he would most likely go and tell everyone that he was just attacked by a Jedi on the Plains and just like that, the element of surprise would be lost.

“You don’t even have any equipment,” Anakin said to the man helplessly as he tried to concoct some sort of plan. “And I can’t help you. I don’t know where the Cave is either.”

The man didn’t seem to buy that. “Then what are you doing here? There’s nothing else around for miles.”

How could one civilian be such a pain? “Listen, I already told you, it’s personal. And it was nice meeting you and all—” it really wasn’t “—but I have to go. Good luck finding the Cave.” Anakin held his free hand out for the guy to drop the pack in, but the man didn’t move.

“My name is Obi-Wan,” he said instead, with a smile like a glimmer of sunlight. “Obi-Wan Kenobi. And if we’re both looking for the cave, why don’t we look together?”

“I just told you that I’m not looking for the ca—”

“I think it’s in that direction,” said Kenobi, gesturing to the west, which was, in fact, the exact opposite direction of where the Cave was located. “We should start moving if we want to get there before it’s dark.”

Anakin was growing very, very frustrated, and this time, his rage concerned him, because it was directed at an innocent civilian. He forced himself to take a deep breath. Even if he disagreed with the Jedi Order, Anakin wasn’t about to go Dark Side, but getting this angry over a clueless civilian didn’t bode well with his conscience. Anakin stared at Kenobi for a good minute. Then, he decided that he would “help” Kenobi find the Cave. He figured if he led the man around in circles for a while, he would give up and leave Anakin alone. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was better than nothing.

Or so he thought. Turns out, Kenobi had a significant amount of stamina for your average citizen. Anakin led him in looping circles for about two hours before the man spoke up, and even then, he only spoke to ask Anakin if he needed a sip of his water, because he looked thirsty.

“No, I’m fine,” Anakin had said through his teeth.

About an hour later, Anakin had just opened his mouth to flat out tell the man to bugger off when Kenobi stopped walking.

“Is there a problem?” Anakin asked hopefully.

“No, not at all,” Kenobi said with a smirk. “In fact, I think we’re here.”

Anakin wanted to laugh at him. They weren’t even close! He opened his mouth to tell Kenobi so, but with the speed of lightning and the grace of a lion, Kenobi withdrew a lightsaber from under his tunic and blazed it on, slashing an arc through the grass to reveal that they were indeed standing in front of the Crystal Cave. Anakin’s heart stopped in his chest. Hundreds of droids were gathered at the mouth of the cave, ready to shoot. He looked Kenobi in horror. With the red glow from his lightsaber lighting up his face, Kenobi smirked and said, “Welcome home, Anakin.”

 _Kriff_.


	2. Bloodthirsty Heart

Things were not going well for Anakin, by any standard.

His wrists were bleeding from him pulling desperately against his handcuffs. His arms were dead-blooded from hanging above his head for Force knew how long. He felt vaguely like he might throw up. And, you know, to top it all off, he had been kidnapped by a Sith Lord.

  
Who, exactly, had he killed in a past life to deserve this? I mean, sure, he'd headed off to Dantooine to kill someone in the first place, but that someone was a bad someone. And wasn't karma like that supposed to haunt you in your next life? Which brought him back to wondering, seriously, who had he killed in his last reincarnation?

  
Would Padmé come looking for him? He tried to distract himself from the insistent sting on his wrists by imagining Padmé busting down the sleek metal door to his airless cell, looking like a goddess in that white bodysuit of hers... telling him what a fool he was... murdering him for getting himself caught...

  
Maybe it was best that Padmé didn't come looking for him, after all.

  
How long was Auratus going to leave him in there, anyway? It felt like it'd been years (but then again, Anakin was known for his melodramatics). His stomach was starting to growl. Not that he was expecting the Sith Lord to feed him, but it was a good indication of how long it had been since he'd been disarmed, handcuffed, and then pitched into this metal box.

  
Anakin closed his eyes. He'd never been the most patient person, but he was even surprising himself. "Oh come on!" He yelled, his voice hoarse. When they'd first slammed the door shut on him, he'd had plenty to say— a handful of words banned by the Jedi council here, a handful of particularly gruesome and occasionally anatomically impossible threats there. It had almost become a game, trying to craft the most disgusting threat as he was spewing the last disgusting one into the air. And then his voice had petered out.

  
Well, it looked like it was back, now. Time for round two. _Sith Lord, one. Anakin, zero._

  
He squeezed his eyes shut to concentrate. "I swear to Force, if you don't let me out of this cell—”

  
“— you’ll scream some more?”

  
He heard the _tmp_ of the cell door closing. His eyes flew open, and he saw Auratus, glowing, smirking. Anakin flushed.

  
He cleared his throat, ignoring the bloody taste in his mouth and the heat of his cheeks. "How long are you planning on keeping me in here?" He demanded. "If you're going to kill me, just ki—”

  
Auratus laughed, like Anakin wasn't serious. "Now why would I ever kill you, Anakin Skywalker?" He drawled, his blue eyes raking over the bloodied boy chained to the corner of the cell.

  
Anakin's eyes narrowed. "How do you—”

  
"Your mind is not the temple you think it is, young Jedi," Auratus said, winking. "And neither is your body, it seems."

  
Anakin flushed even harder. He could see the guy fishing his name out of his head, but there was no way the Sith had found out about Anakin's illicit thoughts towards Padmé. Those were buried so deep in his mind that even he sometimes forgot they were there.

  
"My body is none of your business," Anakin said through his teeth. Auratus had the nerve to raise an eyebrow, but he didn't comment on the sentiment.

  
"Anakin, no one is going to kill you," Auratus said mildly. Anakin couldn't help but notice the way his eyes were tracing the blood streaks dried on his bare chest.

  
"Stop looking at me like that," Anakin snapped. Without thinking, he yanked on his handcuffs to try to cover himself, and he hissed at the pain that seared through his wrists. He felt more blood drip down his arms.

  
Auratus watched without pity. "How would you like me to look at you, then?"

  
What was with this guy? "I don't want you to look at me at all," he said. Auratus stared at him. Anakin ground his teeth. What did he want? "If you’ve just come in here to stare at me—”

  
"Now why would I do that?" Auratus' eyes glittered. "I came in here to fix you."

  
Was he out of his mind? He had to be. He was a Sith. "I don't need to be f—”

  
Faster than Anakin's eyes could follow, Auratus was above him, grabbing onto the chain of the handcuffs and yanking roughly upward. Anakin cried out in pain, despite himself. He glared up at the man.

  
"You were saying?" Auratus smirked.

  
Anakin shook his head, muttering about evil warlords as Auratus crouched down, running a long, pale finger along the locks of the cuffs. They clicked open, and Anakin's dead arms fell, limp. His heart thumping, he tried to move them, to punch him or use the Force, but they might as well have been noodles. Plan B, then. Anakin tried to stand, but he couldn't even manage to get his legs beneath him to rise before Auratus shoved him against the metal wall with one large hand on the center of his chest. He leaned closer, blue eyes sparking. "I thought you wanted to see the cave, yes?" He purred.

  
Anakin couldn't even begin to understand what was going on in this man's head. "Just fix my wrists or leave me alone," he muttered.

  
Auratus tsked at him. "Now there's no need to be rude," he said placidly as he reached into his robes, causing Anakin to flinch as he pulled out a small vial.

  
"What the kriff is that?" Anakin demanded.

  
"Salve," said Auratus. "Keeps the cuts from getting infected. Helps them heal faster."

  
Anakin was right back to glaring. "Why are you cleaning my cuts? You're a Sith."

  
Auratus huffed dramatically. "Don't be melodramatic," he said.

  
The strange pair fell into silence as Auratus dipped a long finger in the vial and slowly, sensually rubbed the salve on Anakin's wrists. Anakin tried not to yelp at the sting of it, but he could tell Auratus could hear him. The man made a noise and traced the lines of the cuts for much longer than Anakin thought necessary. Then, he dipped his finger in the vial again and did the other side, pressing his finger into the cut, forcing it open more as Anakin gasped and he rubbed the exposed, bloody flesh. Oh Force, oh Force, _oh Force_ , it felt like something was crawling inside of his wrist, and Anakin was going to be sick. Auratus withdrew, examining his bloody fingers with interest.

  
"Don't," Anakin panted, "act like you've never had blood on your hands before."

  
"Poetic," Auratus said with mirth. Anakin wished ardently that his arms would move so he could slap him. The man rose from his kneeling position, towering over Anakin again. He didn't bother to wipe his hands on his robes, and he dropped the vial straight on the floor. "Right," he said. "I want you to see something."

  
 _We all want things, don't we,_ Anakin thought snidely. "Unless what you want to show me is your outfit choice, it's not happening. I can't stand."

  
"Pity," Auratus said without sympathy. "I figured you were stronger than that."

  
And then he went to leave, the wretch. _What the—_ Anakin, cursing, fought desperately against his traitor of a body to stand. He was going to faint, wasn't he? He was going to faint in front of a Sith Lord.

  
But no, no he wasn't. He caught himself on the wall. Apparently his arms had finally decided to work. Or maybe the adrenaline of almost falling and breaking his own skull had thrust them into action. Either way, he was still upright.

  
It was the little things, Anakin decided, that he had to acknowledge in times like these.

  
"Well, would you look at that," Auratus commented as he held his hand out before him and swiped it, opening the door with the Force just as Anakin had tried to do with his eyes alone several thousand times since his incarceration.

  
 _Oh shut up,_ thought Anakin as Auratus grabbed him by his injured wrists and pulled him from the cell.

  
Anakin wasn't entirely sure what the point of this exercise was. What he was sure of, however, was that Auratus was spectacularly out of his mind. The man— who had said that he wanted to show Anakin the cave— detoured past the glowing green, blue, and yellow Adegan crystals, past the cavernous pits and thousands of stalactites and stalagmites. Auratus even led him past a barred cell of sorts filled with squealing and screaming kinraths. His gut twisted. What were they even looking for? The poisonous arachnid guardians of the crystals were the only life other than Auratus and himself since he'd been thrust in the cell. And where had all of Auratus' droids gone?

  
"Where are the droids?" Anakin asked, his hoarse voice echoing in the caves. Their absence left a bad feeling (other than the nausea) in his stomach. It was almost like—

  
"I sent them away once I got you into your cell," said Auratus conversationally as he dragged Anakin past another block of kinraths. "I didn't need them after I got you disarmed. Not that I really needed them to disarm you in the first place, but I'd really rather you didn't get hurt."

  
Anakin didn't have time to be annoyed or offended; he was too busy realizing that nothing he had previously thought was adding up.

  
"And before you ask, young one, yes, I lured you here," Auratus said. Anakin's heart sunk. The older man looked back at him, over his shoulder. He smiled. "Sorry."

  
He didn't look sorry. Anakin was about to cry. "Why?" He forced out, his voice a croak. He felt that mixture of tears and rage building in him. "You wanted a matching set, huh?"

  
For the first time, Auratus looked confused. He even stopped. "What are you talking about?" He asked.

  
Anakin hated him more than he had ever hated anyone else in his whole life. Even though he could barely stand on his own, he pulled his wrists violently out of Auratus' grip and stumbled backwards, tears filling his eyes as he yelled, "My master, you son of a bitch! You killed him!"

  
Anakin couldn't see Auratus' reaction through his tears. If I could, he might have seen the surprise, the lack of comprehension. He might have seen the shadow that cast over Auratus' face as he said softly, _"Qui-Gon."_

  
Anakin was shaking too hard to say anything. And to make matters worse, his body had decided to give up again, and he started to sway. He felt like he would be sick as Auratus caught him. And he was.

  
Anakin vaguely thought, as he vomited, that he was perhaps to first Jedi to ever be able to include "throwing up on a Sith Lord's robes" as one of his accomplishments. To Anakin's surprise, Auratus didn't yell, cuss, or shove him away. He just waited for him to finish, let out a breath, and then set Anakin against a cave wall, watching the boy slide safely down it into a sitting position before he removed his robe, revealing a black tunic beneath. His eyes were burning.

  
"I am sorry about your master," he said quietly. "Qui-Gon was—”

  
"Shut up," Anakin snarled. There was silence.

  
Then: "Anakin, I didn't bring you here to kill you," Auratus said. "I want to help you."

  
Anakin, possibly hysterical at that point, barked out a laugh. There was absolutely nothing he could think to say, as tears leaked from his eyes and he laughed, shaking his head. He tried to ignore the way his laughter echoed, deranged, throughout the holy place. He tried to ignore the way Auratus was looking at him.  
Like the Sith Lord actually thought there was something he could do for him.

  
"Anakin." The laughter stopped, just like that. Suddenly, nothing was funny. "Do you know how red Adegan crystals are made?"

  
Anakin closed his eyes. His mouth tasted disgusting. He had just vomited on his surrogate-father's murderer. His wrists were bleeding, and he was pretty sure he had permanently damaged his dexterity in his arms. The very last thing he wanted to do was listen to the crazy Sith Lord talk about how the crazy Sith Lord magic rocks were made.

  
"It's not the same as the Jedi crystals," Auratus said.

  
Well, when had Anakin gotten what he wanted in his life, anyway.

  
"The greens, yellows, blues— they grow naturally, like this," Auratus said, gesturing to a cluster, glowing brightly a couple of feet away. "Natural crystal formations. As easy as breathing. As clear and dull as anything. But red crystals are not the same."

  
_Well, yes. They're red._

  
"You're familiar with the kinrath?" Auratus asked. It took Anakin a second to nod. All he knew was that he wasn't going to speak to this man. Not to the man who had killed Qui-Gon. "Red Adegan crystals can be found in the unhatched eggs of the kinrath," the Sith said. "No one quite knows why. I figure that's why the Jedi never use them." Auratus leaned down, his handsome face in Anakin's and his voice rough as he said, "The Jedi are always afraid of what they don't understand."

  
Anakin looked away. He heard the scratching of stone, a gritty sound, and then the sound of something cracking. His gaze jerked back to Auratus, and he saw the man wiping something red and gleaming off on his tunic, the slime and shell of a kinrath egg on the ground below. Upon looking, Anakin saw a pile of them in a nook in the cave wall a few feet away. That's what he was trying to show me, I guess. Could have just said so. But he supposed mysteriously grabbing someone by their wounded wrists was much more dramatic than breaking into their cell and saying, "Hey, you wanna go see my eggs?"

  
He felt hands on his arms, hoisting him up to his feet again. His stomach lurched, and he would have throw up had he anything left to expel. Auratus held him steady as he heaved. The Sith waited for the retching to pass before he adjusted Anakin, taking his weight as he led him back through the caves and caverns, stopping ever so often for Anakin to catch his breath, or for Auratus to catch Anakin himself as the boy's legs collapsed out from under him. It took what seemed like hours to Anakin, but they finally reached the cell. A metal box had never looked so good to Anakin as that cell looked right then.

  
Auratus helped Anakin in, setting him down in his corner again. Anakin didn't even have the energy to close his eyes or blink as the Sith knelt before him. But he did have the energy to whisper, "Why did you want me here?"— to swallow his tears back and ask, "Why are you telling me this?"

  
Auratus smiled a crooked, twisted smile. And for the first time, the golden man truly looked like a Sith to Anakin. "You have a bloodthirsty heart, Anakin Skywalker. And I will bring you to ruin."

  
Then, the man rose and swept out of the room. Not another word was spoken— not from his lips, or Anakin's own.

  
It took Anakin several minutes to realize that, while the door was certainly locked, Auratus had left him uncuffed, with the vial of medicine.


End file.
